Paper Flowers
by bloodbitesthebullet
Summary: Yumi told him she just wants to be friends, but how far will Ulrich go to be more than that.


**Yo yo yo! I'm back and packed with cholatechipety goodness! Oh wait, no that's my mom's cookies… o.O. Ok well, I'm full of… MYSELF! Anyway, I thought I'd just add this story cause I felt like it.**

Disclaimer: I will never in a million years own Code Lyoko, I've tried and it didn't work sadly .



It had been a change for the worst, Yumi's recent "Let's be Friends" act on Ulrich didn't blow over too well. He wanted to be with her, and those signs were all too unbearable to the girl.

Yumi had watched for days as Ulrich did anything he could to get Yumi to change her mind. He opened doors, helped her on her martial arts, he did anything and everything for her. He was running low of ideas to get her attention when he began listening to an American song.

The song's lyrics began echoing through his head. He got off his bed and walked toward his desk. He took in a quick inventory, his parents wouldn't be too happy, but he had to do it. He immediately sat down and began folding several pieces of paper the same way Yumi had taught him those many months ago.

It had taken him many hours, his senses were growing weak and his need for sleep was only fought by the simple insanity now taking over the poor boy's body. He hadn't even noticed his roommate return from his date with Sissi.

Ten long, dreadful hours, but he had done it, and only received a few minor paper cuts.

"Huh, Lyoko is a piece of cake compared to this." Ulrich said, laughing at his crazy actions.

He waited a few minutes, looking at the mess of papers on the floor. He knew exactly what he would have to do the next morning, and it wouldn't be easy with only an hour's worth of rest.

OOOOOOOOO

The alarm's clamor rang through out the room. Normally a quick click of the snooze button would have satisfied Ulrich's definite need of sleep, but somehow his tired being crept out of bed and grabbed two very large bags. He had changed and piled the endless paper objects into the bags.

He walked quickly to Yumi's house, hoping she wouldn't already be awake. He approached the house quietly and knocked on the door. No body answered and there were no cars in the driveway.

Ulrich used the spare key Yumi had given him. He smiled at how much she trusted him even still. He snuck quietly up the stairs and walked into Yumi's room. He watched her for just a few seconds before dumping the contents of the bags onto the floor. He waited on the floor in the midst of his creations.

It didn't take long before his sleeping angel awoke with a start. (AN: This time, imagine she's wearing cute pjs… not what she normally wears to bed in the show)

"U-ulrich, d-did you d-do this?" She asked, hoping that as she said it he wouldn't walk over and slap her in the face signifying a terrible dream.

"This is your own field of paper flowers," Ulrich said watching as she looked frantically around the room, watching as hundreds of paper flowers popped into her slightly clouded vision.

"Yumi, I know you said you just want to be friends, and its ok, but I can't think of you as just a friend, to me others you'll just be Yumi Ishiyama, but to me you'll be…" Ulrich couldn't finish his sentence, he hadn't noticed the girl he love crawl off the bed and sit next time him. She had placed her lips atop of his, not needing to know how important she was to Ulrich.

"You're not mad?" Yumi asked after they had parted.

"I can't be mad at a girl like you Yumi." Ulrich said picking out one last flower. This time, it was real. It was one white rose, perfect for the occasion if he said so himself.

Yumi kissed him on the cheek as they watched the sun begin to peak out from behind the darkness in Yumi's window.

"Good morning, Princess." Ulrich said as Yumi leaned into him.

**THE END!!!! GO SUN…UP! WOOT! OK NOW LET'S PLAY A MAGICE GAME IT'S CALLED GO! ON THE COUNT OF THREE HIT THE PRETTY LITTLE GO! BUTTON! 1….2…3!!!!!!!!!!!!**


End file.
